


Spring Storms

by alynwa



Series: Picfic Tuesday Challenge [61]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya await extraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Storms

 

“I’m the bearer of somewhat bad news, Mr. Solo,” the tinny voice of Mr. Waverly was saying from the CEA’s communicator, “Due to a fast approaching line of storms headed your way, the extraction team will not be arriving until tomorrow afternoon the earliest.”

“Ah, Sir, Illya and I were able to check into a small motel here in town. We have enough money to get a couple of burgers at the diner. We’ll be fine.”

“I’m certain you will be. Waverly out.”

Napoleon looked at his device and shrugged. “Well, there goes my date with Marian tomorrow night. We’ll be lucky if we’re back in New York by Thursday night.”

Illya had begun to do security checks of their room while Napoleon was updating their superior on the completion of their mission and requesting extraction. “I suppose you are going to blame me?”

“I wasn’t the one driving, Tovarisch, so I _definitely_ wasn’t the one to crash the car and force us to walk for miles in the wilderness until we reached civilization.”

The Russian sniffed, “I do not think Kansas qualifies as the wilderness nor do I think Elgin qualifies as civilization. The population here is three hundred and ten.”

“Which means I better get to the diner before they sell the five hamburgers they have on hand. You stay here; the less people hear that accent, the better off we’ll be.” Napoleon grabbed his coat, checked that he had money and opened the room door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Bring French fries!” Illya yelled as the door shut. He stepped to the window and glanced out. The building was the last building on the road on this side of Elgin. This was the type of place that probably wouldn’t exist in another thirty years; they had noticed very few young people as they walked into town, but everybody had noticed _them_. _They probably have not had a stranger here in years,_ he thought.

It didn’t matter to Napoleon, who just turned on the charm until he practically had the front desk clerk eating out of his hand. He had explained that their car had broken down a few miles away and they had left their luggage in it rather than haul it with them. When the woman apologized profusely that Hank and his tow truck had gone home for the day and the garage was closed, Napoleon had told her not to worry, they would have friends come get them. He had signed them both in while Illya had made a great show of using the pay phone to call for help.

Looking out the window now, he frowned as he looked at black, ominous clouds that appeared to be blowing his way. _Chyort, I do not like the look of them._ He turned on the radio to occupy his mind and began fiddling with the tune dial to find a station. _I doubt I will find any jazz._ He settled on a station that had a man reporting the news.

“And, in case you haven’t noticed, folks, there’s a nasty looking bunch of storm clouds headin’ our way.   Weather service says we’re in for some severe thunderstorms from about nine ‘til about midnight. High winds with a possibility of a tornado. Keep your ears open for the sirens and if you hear one, head for your cellars immediately. If you have difficulty moving fast, I’m thinking of you, Dora Hayes and Charlie Smith, you might want to consider just going to sleep down there. In other news…”

Illya had stopped listening as he pondered what he had heard. He looked out the window again and was unhappy to see that the clouds had moved significantly closer. The sun had already set and directly above him, he could see millions of stars, but where the clouds were, all he could see was black with the occasional flash of white. He was concentrating so hard on the horizon that he actually jumped and pulled his weapon when he heard a key go into the lock.

Napoleon opened the door and found himself staring down Illya’s gun. “Hey, I knocked our code!” he said when Illya put the gun down. “What’s happening?”

“I am sorry, Napoleon. I was distracted by the storm clouds.”

Napoleon set the bag of food down and joined his partner at the window. “Does look a little dicey. This motel has a storm cellar, the front desk clerk told me as I was coming inside.” He clapped Illya on the shoulder. “Good news, Partner Mine! The diner actually had _six_ burgers, so we have three each plus two large orders of fries and a couple of vanilla milkshakes. Let’s eat.”

They had finished their meal (with Illya filching a few of Napoleon’s fries) and were watching television when the first rumble of thunder came through their window. Both men looked up at the sound and Napoleon said, “When I came back in from the diner, the desk clerk told me it’s really too early in the season for tornadoes, but she pointed out the door to the storm cellar, just in case. I tend to agree with her; there won’t be any tornadoes.”

Illya opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by a loud crack of thunder. As the sound rolled away, he shivered and moved to turn off the television. “It is not a good idea to have it on during a powerful storm.” A bright flash lit up the night outside their window followed almost immediately by another boom.

“You’re right, Illya. I brought a couple of magazines up from the front desk area so we have something to read.” Napoleon picked up a five month old copy of Life to peruse and settled deeper into the easy chair, toed off his shoes and put his socked feet on the coffee table. He enjoyed thunderstorms when he was indoors; the way lightning illuminated the world, the boom and echo of thunder and the pounding of the rain against the building he found oddly calming.

A sound like a tree being cracked in half clapped what seemed like inches over his head brought another closer sound to his ears. He glanced up from his article to see his partner sitting on the bed, eyes closed, and knees drawn up with his arms wrapped tightly around them. He was astonished to see that the man was panting and small whimpering sounds were coming out of him.

“Illya?” he said as he got up and went to sit next to him. “What’s going on?”

“Remember I told you last summer that thunderstorms remind me of being bombed in Kiev when I was a child?* At Napoleon’s nod he whispered, “This is the worst storm I have been in in years. I am embarrassed to say…I am scared.”

Napoleon leaned back against the headboard and looked at the smaller man for a few seconds before replying, “I’m your partner, Tovarisch. There is no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. You know me _and_ my fears. Remember when we escaped from that satrap and had to swim to the boat you had stashed?** I was terrified. You could have just swum beside me, but you didn’t. You held my hand and you’ve never held it over my head that you did.”

Another clap and another flinch from the Russian had Napoleon make up his mind. Holding up his right arm, he gestured to Illya. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come _here._ ”

Illya slid closer until he was under Napoleon’s arm who then dropped it onto his shoulder, pulled him closer and said, “Hopefully, this won’t last all night. I’d like to get some sleep _in_ bed.” He then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could feel the Russian’s heartbeat slow its pace from a gallop to a walk even as the storm continued to rage.

“Napoleon.”

The senior agent’s eyes snapped open. The lamp beside the easy chair was still on, but it was almost eerily quiet. “What is it?”

“I think all the storms have moved away. It is after midnight.” Illya answered as he moved away from Napoleon and stretched and yawned loudly. “I am ready for bed.”

Napoleon slipped off the bed opposite Illya and began to undress. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Nyet. I could not while the storms remained. It did not seem to bother _you_ however.”

Napoleon pulled back the covers and got in bed. He pummeled his pillow into a comfortable shape while Illya undressed, turned out the lamp and got in bed. “No, it didn’t and now I’m ready to get some _more_ sleep. G’night.”

Illya smiled in the dark as he prepared to fall asleep. _Mr. Waverly is wise. Napoleon is truly the best partner I could ever have._ “Goodnight, Napoleon. And, thank you.”

“I’m your partner, Illya. You’re welcome.”

 

*ref. Chap. 36 of “MFU Drabbles: Heat Wave II”

**ref. “Two if by Sea”

 

 

 


End file.
